Of course, the division still had the possibility of causing friction during fighting, and rather uncharitable acts towards one's brother soldiers, and so when the meal had been cleared away, Jacob dismissed all of the men present except Darren and Alastair, choosing to involve him as he was the leader of the Umkhovu regiment. Umholi, of course, was there by default, in his capacity as valet. It was certainly useful, having the leader of a third of the camp's population underfoot all day. It gave Jacob a wonderful feel on the pulse of his men.
“First things first – can we go into battle with the soldiers divided like this?”
“The Umkhovu are not divided.” Umholi answered while serving out tea to the three men.
“I am not apprehensive about your clan, more so the Lifeguards and the Royal Dragoons.”
“For the Dragoons, I am unsure, but I think they are somewhat unconcerned, at least enough that they would avoid doing anything foolish on a field of battle. Many of them are taking the attitude that since they get no vote, either here or at home, that this is a political issue and well above their station. The officers, of course, are divided in much the same way as the Lifeguards.”
“Alastair? Your company?”
“If anything, mine is the absolute worst in the regiment. They have suffered somewhat by having my attention and their sergeants placed elsewhere, and are resentful of the fact. On the other hand, those who have been assisting the training of the Uhlobo clan have sometimes formed strong opinions in favour of their retaining weapons. Passions are certainly high, but the precise split is uncertain.”
“Unfortunate, since I am sure that Upton has riled up most of his men against the Umkhovu. As for Theodore and Bricthon, can anyone offer estimates? I left them out of this discussion precisely because I do not entirely trust their position, before anyone asks.”
Of all those present, it was Umholi who answered. “They are, on the whole, in favour of us retaining our weapons. Or at least those who speak with or around their servants have indicated so. I think their basic premise is that since we are not human, we are therefore more expendable and will die in place of them on the field of battle. The impression received was that this was a notion spreading from the top down, and while it produces a rather low opinion of the Umkhovu, I would most certainly rather have a low opinion that helps us, rather than a highborn one that does not.”
“So they expect me to use you as the meatgrinder regiment, while the Lifeguards use their greater skill in fire support. Honestly, it would probably be a pertinent tactical configuration, except for the minor notation that your Umkhovu could quite possibly best the Lifeguards in a musketry contest.” Jacob held up a hand to forestall Alastair's objections. “I hardly said that I would do so, merely that the Umkhovu have taken to civilized warfare as if it was a skill they only need remember from years past.”
The regimental commander paused, and looked at Umholi for a long moment. “How good are your soldiers at loading cannon?”
“We have never tried such an application, so I cannot speculate improperly.”
“Fine. Speculate properly. How good are your Uhlobo clansmen at loading and firing cannon?”
“Possibly two thirds or three quarters as fast as the field artillerists.”
“Who are, of course, the best the kingdom has to offer. The absolute, championship winning, best. Umkhovu learn by being around others who are good at a task, do they not?”
Umholi did not respond for a long moment. Instead, he let his eyes stare off into the direction of the morning sun, visible as a bright spot on the canvas tent. Only then did he nod, once.
“How much else can you read from our minds?”
“A little. We feel emotions, desires, techniques. Actual thoughts or the ability to communicate do not seem to be involved. Let me attempt an analogue of how we learn. An engineer builds a fragile structure, and gives it to you, but the travel it has endured has twisted and warped it. Yet over the next days and weeks, the structure slowly repairs itself, until at last, it is as good as it once was.”
Both Alastair and Darren were staring at Jacob and his valet. “And how long have you known about this?”
“Known? About thirty seconds. Guessed? Some longer time period than that. It took a while for the understanding to crawl out of the mire, given that it is a totally foreign concept to my mind. However, I hardly believe it is something that you need worry about.”
“Worry about? You're telling me my manservant can understand my thoughts?”
“Not thoughts, but emotions. And you have had said manservant for almost two years now. How many times has he said anything that has harmed you? In my personal case, I am quite sure neither Umholi nor Inceku, nor either of the maidservants, have said anything of the kind. What you gentlemen are forgetting in this moment of revelation is that we, as defenders of their rights, are the best advocates the Umkhovu have, both here in the field, and when we eventually return home. Therefore, they are exceedingly unlikely to do anything to either harm us or damage our confidence in them, a fact which should light upon your minds should you but examine it for a bit.”
“I am more concerned about them disguising the capability in the first place. It smacks of dishonesty.”
Umholi snorted, a very unservantlike gesture. “And if we had told you at first, what would your reaction have been? Most likely the same as it was to the arboreals or the Hungry Ones. Every being, sentient, animal, or otherwise, fears the unknown. Tell me different and I will find men in this regiment who fear the dark, or the deep sea, or any other situation in which their senses are clouded by the terrain. No, it was better that men came by this realization slowly. In addition, the initial greeting between our peoples was hardly of the friendly sort. It was only some months afterwards that relationships began to settle into the pattern they now hold.”
“You do realize the men will not be quite as sanguine as you are about the matter, right, sir?” Alastair was looking straight at Jacob.
“Of course. Which is why I have no intention of telling them. They have far too much on their minds concerning the Umkhovu as it stands, especially with the rot Upton keeps shovelling up from that latrine trench he calls his thoughts. Anyway, much as the Umkhovu proficiencies are an interesting note for the natural philosophers, we have the more pressing issue of fighting enemy forces while being divided internally. Now, the divide appears to be located primarily amongst two companies of the Lifeguards, and some officers of the 1st Royal Dragoons, correct?”
The others indicated their agreement.
“Unfortunately, that affects almost half of our actual fighting strength, accounting for the effect of officers on their subordinates. Now, the issue depends on how the officers react during the fighting, a matter we will have to ignore until the moment occurs. So we shall disregard the morale issue and focus upon the tactical, namely, bringing the Mountain Lords to battle in a place of our choosing, with the Forgotten Folk exhausted.”
“If we follow down the chain of thought that you and I discussed last night, I should start sending out patrols to find the Mountain Lords, and then larger forces to begin raiding them. Also, once my men are out of the camp, it might reduce the political pressure that can be put on them. Or at least distract them by focusing more on the immediate issue to hand.”
“A good point, that combat may serve as an antidote to political expectations. In that light, Alastair, I want you to scout for a location in which to dig a number of pit traps, disguised breastworks, and embrasures for the artillery. I don't really expect you to find one that's any better than where we are now, but you have a day for the issue. In the meantime, I'll give orders that the rest of our force shall pick up and move ten miles east southeast. I don't want those primitives to find us before we have time to set the trap. And Alastair, make sure you use your Lifeguard company for this. Explain just how sensitive the issue is, that we'll be using it to make our stand. The usual rubbish. Some of them will buy it, some won't. In
either case, it is a gesture to indicate there are some tasks that we entrust only to the very best.”
“And the Umkhovu?”
“Currently, Umholi, you will just have to be servants. And unfortunately, your clan will almost certainly have to be at the sharp end when the barbarians arrive. The only way I can think of to swing support in favour of the Uhlobo in any definitive fashion is to engage the enemy in such a way that you take the brunt of it, and perform exceedingly admirably in such a situation. I'm not worried about the consummation, but rather that there are enough Umkhovu alive at the end of said attainment to be worth honouring. If there is a better suggestion that I am missing, please do let me know.”
Umholi shrugged. “We will do as we are asked. After all, to make one's way in a new world is no easy thing. Less so one when that world resents one's arrival. It is not a challenge of your making, but one we must overcome.”
“What's wrong with fighting the battle in a more normal manner and allowing it to become a social debate at home?”
“Because every time the Umkhovu have not outweighed every other unit on the battlefield will be used against them, as charges that they do not deserve any position with the Royal Army, since they clearly are not worth more than a human. The only counter to that argument we could provide would be that they are not human, and so their lives can be spent cheaply and freely. In the short term, that rhetorical flourish might carry the debate, but the long term consequences would be to enshrine the Umkhovu as permanently subhuman, a kind of advanced hunting dog, and little more.”
“And in the rest of society? Will you help us rise above servile status?”
The question came from Umholi, and it was one that stunned those in the room. Umkhovu, after all, were servants, and nothing more. Servants and soldiers, perhaps, but why should they aspire? Their place was where it was now, and they were performing admirably at it.
“Aristocracy, land, power, all of those are the product of age old tradition and history, a history of which the Umkhovu have played no part. Indeed, nobles reject humans who are engaged in social climbing. It is better that each living being know its place, and stay in the place most suited to it, unless all of creation falls out of proportion with itself. A horse is a fine animal, but ill-suited to water. Likewise are more primitive races ill-suited to the full embrace of civilization. Perhaps, many generations in the future, they will stretch their hands upwards and begin the climb, but as it currently stands I hardly see any ready to make a true leap.”
“And what of us, then? Do you see in us merely a primitive people, playing at civilization?”
“I see a people with no civilization, and so they draw the cloth of another over them. Tell me, of all the tasks you complete for us, what of them did you devise from whole cloth, or bring from your culture? You hide your own style of food away from humans, you do not tell us the stories of your home except when asked, indeed, in all things you have become mimics of our behaviour, our desires. Umholi, you described it yourself, in that you echo our wishes back at us with your actions. Which makes you an excellent butler, but rather ill-suited to building a civilization separate from that of humanity. So, if the Umkhovu continue as they are doing, they will become subsumed in our society, and lose what little identity they have left. Hardly climbing the ladder of polite custom. More leaning over to copy from the smart lad in the class. Which, I should add, is an expulsion offense.”
The retort left the Uhlobo elder unpleasantly surprised. Especially as the argument was also a false equation, because it was impossible to become civilized if copying the current arbiter of taste was considered cheating, and anything else was deemed to be beneath notice or respect.
“If we built our own, with all the forces and cannon needed to wage wars and create empires?”
“Why, then you are most certainly civilized. Have you not yet learned, Umholi? Only one thing matters in this world, and that is force, and the skill to apply it. Prowess is the only coin that buys respect. But it must be a prowess so profound that other countries know of it, that people in the streets speak in hushed whispers. That is the prowess that cracks open the world as one would an oyster.”
At that, Umholi cracked a smile. “Then we will become servants and soldiers such that the armies of the world quake to hear our footfalls.”
Darren chuckled. “Let's introduce them to the Nightwatch Fusilieers. They might like it more than the style of combat practiced by the Lifeguards.”
“One regiment of the Nightwatch is bad enough. The kingdom could not withstand the impact of several.”
“I have heard you mention this regiment several times, but I do not understand why they worry you so. Are not the Lifeguards the best regiment in the Royal Army?”
Jacob snorted, slightly. “That is very much a matter of opinion. We have a great deal of intraservice awards to our name, true. Those awards are earned on the parade ground, however, a ground on which the Nightwatch Fusiliers do not compete. They are considered too crude for such pursuits. Have you ever heard of the concept of the berserker? It is a warrior who works himself into such a state of frenzy before a battle that he can perform unbelievable acts and withstand damage that would kill a normal man. Well, that entire regiment is made up of men of that extraction, and they are armed with as many and as varied weapons as they desire. Although most have standardized upon a collection of pistols, a swath of grenades, and a two-handed sword. Their most common tactic is to charge the enemy at a full sprint, firing pistols as they come, then unleashing a hail of grenades to break the lines. Those explosions are followed shortly by the impact of the entire regiment, hacking and slashing with great claymores as if warriors from an age past had once more regained the field. The mere threat of such a charge has broken armies before.”
Umholi looked down at his legs, short and stumpy by comparison to the humans around him. “I am unsure if my physical form would allow me to charge in such a manner. Perhaps volley fire is more suited to our physique.”
“Well, it has not led you wrong at this current date. Anyway, Darren, through all of this muddle do you understand what you are to be doing? Harassing raids on the Forgotten Folk and a constant presence to bother the Mountain Lords.”
“It should not be too much trouble. Provided they don't throw tree trunks at us.”
“Given the paucity of trees in the local area, that should not prove too much of an impediment. But if they do take the time to throw any, perhaps see if they can be set on fire. Replacement weapons are much harder for them to come by than they are for us. Just be wary of setting the plains alight.”
“I shall do my best.”
“Alastair, you are looking for the ideal place for an ambush, while I have to move the entire force to a new home, hopefully one the barbarians are not especially proximate to.”
The company commander gave his partings before disappearing, followed by Darren. With both officers gone, the meeting wound to a halt, and Jacob sat alone, contemplating the challenges that lay before him. Presently, he rose and gave the order to move camp, strolling about as the controlled demolition of a small town took place. For those who could understand the grace underlying the motions, it was an impressive thing to see, the homes for hundreds of people uprooted, folded neatly away, and rebuilt every day. As a performance on a grand scale, not even the largest ballets had anything of the sort. Never in the scope of human endeavour had man conjured such a synchronous achievement, except in the matter of warfare.
As he strolled about, he wondered at that. That the only place in which all of humanity could act as one great machine with a single purpose was in a force designed to maim, kill, destroy, and slaughter. Perhaps the basest of instincts were the most powerful of them all.
***
Darren led the very first of the raids himself, as befitted a proper gentleman and officer. Thirty dragoons rode behind him, handpicked as the very best the regiment had to offer, each of them loaded down with cavalry pistols and
the standard issue sabre. A few also carried blunderbusses, which had long been a staple cavalry weapon. Amazing what it would do to closely packed infantry at the receiving end of a charge.
It had taken his dragoons two days of scouting to find the camp of the Mountain Lords, and only by sheer chance had it been discovered at all, tucked away in a dell that was steeper and better hidden than expected. Once discovered, Darren had set up a rotating number of men to keep the barbarians in sight at all time. Four, spread widely, had so far turned the trick.
The expedition’s scout raised a hand and slowed down, dismounting from his horse to creep forward. Darren gestured at the others in his command to stop, while he himself followed the scout on foot. A few furtive moments saw them both at the lip of the dell, and the scene below laid itself out much as Darren had hoped it would. The Mountain Lords were asleep, all but one or two, and those showed the grogginess of long sentry duty. More importantly, the Forgotten Folk were up and scurrying around, preparing the camp for their masters' breakfast, much as the Umkhovu might do. Except that they looked entirely terrified of what would happen should anything go wrong.
It was a pity they had to be killed, as Darren was fairly certain they would welcome freedom from their oppressors. Unfortunately, they had shown no inclination to flee into the waiting arms of the human forces, even after seeing the regiment of Umkhovu, and if the Forgotten Folk were so terrified of their Mountain Lord overseers that they would rather die than flee from their side, it made Darren's choice all the more inevitable.
The only part of this whole plan that worried him was that of climbing back out of the dell. The horses could do it, but would be quite slow until they reached the rim and freedom. There was nothing for it though, as he could not change the shape of the terrain to suit him. Which was a pity, because that would be the greatest gift a commander could hope for.
Having seen enough, Darren crept backwards and waved the scout off. The scout’s duty was to remain behind and keep an eye on the primitives below, as he had been before. The other thirty men formed up into two columns, one behind Darren, the other behind one of the regiment’s senior sergeants. They would each cut through the camp, taking a route that would keep them as far as possible from Mountain Lords and as close as possible to Forgotten Folk. The larger of the barbarian races was only to be attacked in case of need, while all firepower was to be concentrated on the smaller, important when it would be impossible to reload firearms during the charge.
Our Land (Queen's Own Book 1) Page 18